Love Story
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Hermione is a writer in love with her publisher. However, two words, a name spoken by him, will change things. But, will they be for the better? Only time-and the writer-shall tell. Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.
1. The First Chapter

"The First Chapter"

"Good morning, Mr. Courtenay!" Hermione said, greeting her publisher. He smiled up at her as she entered his office.

"Hermione," he said warmly. "How good to see you again. Have you been well?"

"As well as I can be at this time of year," she replied, shrugging half-heartedly. "But I feel all the better for seeing you." She blushed at her words, and Jack Courtney chuckled.

"The art department has designed the cover for the next book in the series," he said, getting straight down to business as he pushed a folder across the desk to her. She opened it, and the title, the same size font as her name by now, was in a light gold colour, standing out.

"_Music and Magic_," she read, smiling down at it. "It's perfect."

"Yes, it is," Mr. Courtenay said, watching Hermione closely, by no means referring to her book. But she wasn't paying attention. Instead, she was examining the cover design for the latest in her popular children's novel series, the famous fantasies starring a magical bird who could turn into a human, Stravinsky the Firebird.

"Thank you," she said, finally speaking. She raised her gaze to his, and gave him the special smile she reserved only for him. After all, she _was_ in love with the man. Hopelessly, desperately, head-over-heels in love.

Damn. Why couldn't she have fallen for Ron, or Neville? Things would have been so much easier than being in love with her publisher, the man responsible for her career.

"So why is it such a terrible time of year?" he asked, leaning forward. Hermione felt tears forming as she closed the folder, and gave it back. "Hermione? What's wrong?"

"My friend's godfather… he died five years ago… today, in fact. It's a… difficult time for all of us, remembering him."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Were you close?"

"It's hard to say, really," she said. "But he was still going to Harry's rescue… Oh, it's too difficult to tell you without giving you all the circumstances, which I really can't do. Much as I'd love… I mean, like to."

"I understand," Mr. Courtenay replied. "What was his name?"

"Sirius Black," she told him.

"Sounds familiar," he said, frowning. "But I can't remember why. Sirius Black, Sir…"

His face went blank, and Hermione began to panic.

"Mr. Courtenay? Mr. Courtenay? Are you all right?"

"Sirius," he whispered, still staring into space. Hermione stood, and hurried around the desk. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped out of his reverie. As he looked up into her concerned eyes, he underwent a change. His salt-and-pepper hair darkened, grew longer, and became slightly wavy. His brown eyes turned a tarnished silver, and the few lines on his face disappeared. He even seemed to grow taller, his clothes magically adjusting to fit. Hermione gasped, and back up a bit. It couldn't be Sirius, though he did look an awful lot like him.

"Who… who are you?" she asked.

His mouth opened and closed as he searched for an answer. Finally…

"I'm… Regulus Black."

* * *

When Hermione regained consciousness, it was to the gentle stroke of someone's hand on her hair, and a soft voice begging her to awaken. She blinked several times to let her eyes adjust to the light, before sitting up slowly.

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"I'm… okay. Uh… are you quite certain that you're…"

"The younger Black brother, yes," he replied, still stroking her hair. He recalled himself, and pulled his hand back. "The Dark Lord… he did something to me. When he discovered my betrayal, he decided not to kill me, but rather condemn me to a kind of amnesia, even giving me a new identity. I'm remembering it all now." He looked wistful, and then returned his attention to Hermione. "Sirius is dead?"

"He died bravely, like the Gryffindor he always was," she said, nodding. "I'm so sorry. But… but you're alive. That's a good thing. Really," she insisted when he looked unsure. "If it wasn't for you, I don't know where we'd have been."

"At least the Dark Lord is no more."

"How do you know?"

"It was one of the 'conditions' of my memory returning," he said, smiling. "There were four conditions, and that was the first one. Clearly, he thought himself invincible."

"And with the horcruxes, he was able to come back to life," she added. He looked confused.

"I think there's a lot I need to catch up on," he said. "It's been twenty-three years, after all."

"Indeed," she said quietly, looking at her hands. She drew her wand. "But first, we can't let you out of here looking like… well, like you do." He laughed.

"How very true. Mustn't alarm the Muggles."

* * *

Hermione and Regulus Apparated to Grimmauld Place. He remembered his wand being broken, and she promised to take him to Mr. Ollivander once he was rehabilitated. No one was at Grimmauld Place, because Hermione had bought it from Harry after the war, and she lived alone, except for Crookshanks. And he was probably out hunting.

The only blight on living here was Mrs. Black's portrait, which was why Hermione usually flooed, as it was quieter, and didn't involve going through the door. Sometimes she even forgot about her 'housemate'.

However, she got the usual welcome when they entered the house, having removed Regulus' Glamours before they entered.

"Mudblood! Scum!" The curtains burst open, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dirt! You should never have been allowed in… Reggie?" Mrs. Black looked in awe at her seething son, disbelieving. "You're alive?"

"Yes, Mother," he said, and Hermione noticed that his fists were clenched.

"Oh, how _wonderful_, my son! Now you can take back possession from this Mudblood, this scum of the earth." She wiped her painted eyes. Regulus growled, and she looked at him in surprise. "Reggie? What's the matter, dearest?"

"How _dare_ you refer to Hermione like that," he whispered. "If you were alive, you wouldn't be worthy of breathing the same air as her."

"Reggie, what are you talking ab…"

"Hermione, could you please leave us alone for a few minutes?" Regulus asked, teeth clenched.

"Uh… of course," she said, and she hurried into the living room, wondering who to tell first. Harry would have to know; but should he be informed yet? Professor Slughorn would need to be told, having known and liked Regulus. Yes. Perhaps she should tell him first. He would know what to do.

While she waited for Regulus to finish with his mother—and she hated to think about what he was saying to her, considering how chivalrous he had been—she flooed Professor Slughorn, who was happily retired once again. She didn't tell him why; just that she needed to speak with him, urgently, and that he should be prepared for a shock.

Suddenly, there was an explosion from the hallway, and she ran out there in a panic.

"Regulus!" she cried. She was relieved to see that he was all right, and was instead looking at the floor smugly. Mrs. Black's portrait was in tatters, and she was running from scrap of painting to scrap of painting, shrieking, and shouting at her son.

"'These boots are made for walking; that's just what they do'," he sang softly, and he glanced at Hermione. He held at her hand. "'One-a these days these boots are gonna walk all over you'." He stamped a foot on his mother where she was in one of the pieces of portrait. "Would you join me for this dance, my dear Hermione?"

Her heart leapt at his words, and she reddened as she accepted his hand. They both laughed as they waltzed over the former painting, completely ignoring Mrs. Black's shouts as they tried their best to finish the song. However, not knowing all the words, they soon trailed off, and instead slowed their dancing down until they were swaying in each other's arms. They were interrupted by the sound of the floo activating. Hermione whispered to Regulus to stay there.

"Professor Slughorn," she said as she walked back into the living room.

"Hermione, my girl!" he exclaimed, taking her right hand in both of his. "So good to hear from you again."

"You should sit down first, Professor," she recommended, and he obediently seated himself in an armchair by the fireplace. "Could you come in now, please?" she called out, and Regulus, having cleaned up the painting, walked into the room.

Professor Slughorn lost all the colour from his face as his mouth dropped open. Regulus smiled at him, and walked forward.

"Hello, sir," he said quietly.

"R-regulus… my dear lad… you're alive?"

"Yes, sir. It's great to see you again, to see a familiar face." Horace stood up, and the men shook hands, before Regulus was pulled into a fast, but fierce, embrace. Once he was let go, he grinned at his former teacher. "Have I missed much?"

**

* * *

**

Going with unoriginal chapter titles for this one. It was only supposed to be a one-shot; and then I thought a two-shot more reasonable, but the place where I wanted to cut it was about three-quarters of the way through. So now it's a three-shot. Is there such a thing? Who cares! Three is my favourite, and lucky, number.

**Why?**

**Because when three people sit in a circle and hold hands, everyone is holding each other's hand.**

**Sappy, I know. I was about six at the time. *Shakes head***

**Review, please!**


	2. The Second Chapter

"The Second Chapter"

It took quite some time for Professor Slughorn to explain everything that had happened in the intervening years, and Hermione had to floo Professor Snape to come over, and bring a vial of Calming Draught with him. He also brought Madame Pomfrey, who nearly fainted when she saw Regulus Black, alive and well. All three visitors were sworn to secrecy, even from Headmistress McGonagall. Hermione insisted on Harry coming over as well, since he would no doubt wish to thank Regulus in person. This, he did.

"I'm sorry you missed more than two decades of your life by helping the cause the way you did," he said. "Sort of like Professor Snape. Good thing Hermione saved him."

"She saved me as well," Regulus said, smiling at her. "Another of the terms of me getting my memory back was that I had to speak my brother's name. She prompted me into doing that, for which I'm sincerely grateful." He squeezed her hand across the table.

"So what happened to you?" Severus asked, glad that it was the school holidays at the moment, and that he didn't have classes, or any other duties.

"When the Dark Lord found out what I'd done, he had me kidnapped, and then tortured. But instead of killing me, he cast a modified Memory Charm over me. There were four conditions under which I could regain my memory. The first was that he had to have been defeated; something which he didn't anticipate. Another, as I've said, was that I had to say my brother's name, which I would have forgotten, thanks to the charm. The other two were that I had to fall in love with someone of less than pure blood, who loved me back."

"I see," Hermione said quietly, looking at her hands. Who had he found?

"Dumbledore always said that love would prevail," Harry mused, completely oblivious to Hermione's reaction, or the funny look Regulus was giving her. "And Voldemort underestimated it yet again." He chuckled hollowly.

"I only wish I could have helped in the final battle," Regulus said, his fists clenching again, this time in frustration as well as anger. "More lives might have been saved."

"Well, you're here now," Hermione said. "And… I suppose you want Grimmauld Place back?"

"Sirius was the older son, so it would have gone to him in any case," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. "I've got my own place… though it'd be nice to stay here again, even just for a little while. I had happy times here." He looked thoughtful, though.

"I sent Kreacher to work at Hogwarts," Harry said. Regulus' head jerked around to look at The-Boy-Who-Lived, and he suddenly smiled.

"I'll go and summon him," Severus offered, standing.

"Thanks, Sev," Regulus said. "I miss him."

"He'll be glad to see you," Hermione told him. "He hero-worshipped you."

"You're Hermione's type, you know," Harry said. "In our fifth year, she campaigned for house elf rights. Course, it didn't go anywhere. But she managed to alienate all the house elves from Gryffindor Tower for ages." Regulus raised an eyebrow at Hermione, and she blushed. "The only paid house elf at Hogwarts, Dobby, was the only one who cleaned up there, thanks to Hermione. She kept leaving clothes around for them."

"Harry," Hermione whispered, her face continuing to get redder. "Don't you have a wife and children to be getting home to?"

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," Harry said, and he flooed back to the Potter home, narrowly missing Kreacher's return. Severus and Madame Pomfrey went back to Hogwarts, and Horace flooed back to his place. Hermione excused herself quietly, and ran upstairs as Kreacher and Regulus were happily reunited.

* * *

After a couple of weeks, in which Regulus changed his appearance gradually, so that the people who worked for him wouldn't think it suspicious—though some did wonder whether he'd had plastic surgery—it was finally announced to the wizarding world that Regulus Black was actually living. Regulus and Harry were contacted by the head of the Department of Mysteries, who wished to speak to them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Black; do come in," Mr. Young said, ushering them into his office when they arrived. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. It will be to both your benefits, I can assure you."

"How?" Regulus asked bluntly, sitting beside Harry in front of the desk.

"I'll come straight to the point," Young said. "It's about your late brother, Sirius Black."

"What about him?" Harry asked, straightening in his chair.

"We had thought it impossible to bring him back from the Veil, but that is not so. Not with his brother alive."

"W-what do you mean?" Regulus said.

"Only a family member can bring him back. Cousins aren't close enough in blood. If we had known you were alive, we could have brought him back sooner. However, time shouldn't have made a difference."

"You mean," Harry said, his voice shaking, "that we can bring back my godfather?"

"That is precisely what I mean."

* * *

Hermione was making dinner for Regulus—and feeling very housewifely doing it, too—when he got back to Grimmauld Place. She was secretly searching for an apartment of her own, as she'd seen how at-home he felt. Also, she had heard him telling Harry that he was going to be selling his flat, which she guessed meant that he was hoping to buy Number Twelve from her. Of course, she'd do anything she could to make him happy; but it still hurt that he was being so secretive about it, when he could just come right out and tell her, ask her.

"I'm home!" he called out as he came in the front door. Gods, and that hurt, too. He was acting as though they were a married couple. And calling it 'home' just confirmed her fears. "Where are you, Hermione?"

"In the kitchen!" she replied. Having called him 'Mr. Courtenay' for so long, she had tried to call him 'Mr. Black'; but he wouldn't allow it. Instead, he insisted on her using his first name. This made her uncomfortable. If she tried to use it, who knew what else might come out? Would she say too much, or would the way she said his name give her away?

So she just avoided calling him anything, having only slipped the once when she thought that he was in danger.

"Great news," he said, walking into the kitchen. Wand controlling the utensils, apron-clad woman controlling the wand. He knew the mind underneath all that bushy, brown hair, just as he wanted to know the rest of her. Salazar, if she could just say how she felt. He _knew_ she loved him back.

Perhaps this will prompt her, he thought, and he sauntered up behind her, where she was getting out the plates for dinner. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she whipped around, surprised.

"What news?" she asked.

"You remind me of a housewife from the fifties," he told her, changing the subject. "So I just have to do this." He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, and then winked at her as she blushed.

"_Once_ you're content with being serious," she said, forcing herself to turn back to the cupboards, "perhaps you can tell me what this news is."

"Fine," he said, and he took the dishes from her, and began to set the table, all the while filling her in on what Mr. Young had told them.

"That's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed when he had finished. "Oh, you and Harry must be so pleased. If only… if only Remus was here for it." She sniffed. She may have been able to save Professor Snape; but poor Teddy Lupin was still an orphan, something she had been unable to prevent.

"So did anything particularly exciting happen while I was out?"

"You got seventeen more owls, most of them scented, or with flowery hand-writing, and probably all from admiring young witches," she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. He was the wizarding world's hottest new bachelor, out-ranking war heroes and other, younger purebloods like Draco Malfoy. Hermione hated all the fan mail he kept receiving, but couldn't do anything about it, much as she wished she could.

"Clearly, they've forgotten that I'm already in love," Regulus remarked. "How else could I have regained my memory otherwise?"

"Indeed," she whispered, levitating the food over to the table. She sat down while Regulus poured them both drinks. As they usually ate in silence, they often used the time to read any correspondence; so Regulus took the opportunity to read through the letters he had received. Hermione was right. Every one of them was from some witch—and, in three cases, wizard—wanting to go on a blind date with him.

"They really have forgotten," he muttered. "Still, I suppose she's out of reach of me, isn't she?" He glanced up at Hermione carefully, pretending to be reading the letters again. The grips on her knife and fork tightened, but there was no other sign of her emotion. He definitely wasn't wrong. Voldemort was very talented, and the spell had worked. Did she really suppose him indifferent?

"Well, you should still give at least one of them a chance," she said quietly, nodding her head at the letters, "if she's so 'out of reach', as you put it."

"Does she have to be out of reach, Hermione?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Here's a thought, Mr. Black," she said, standing to start clearing up. "Why don't you _ask _her?"

"What do you think I was just doing?" he asked, his voice so quiet that she was unable to hear it.

This wooing business is going to be harder than I thought, he mused. With a sigh, he asked if she needed any help. When he was greeted with silence, he left the dining room, and went upstairs to have a shower.

**

* * *

**

Only one part left now. This idea has been in development—well, the whole Regulus Black is actually a publisher named Mr. Courtenay thing—for quite awhile now. Months, in fact. Sort of changed over time, but here it is.

**Then! It came to this, and I started writing down the notes… oh, probably in the city one day, going home from the gym.**

**Enough of that. Review again, please!**


	3. The Third Chapter

"The Third Chapter"

Two weeks passed, and it was the night of Sirius' Welcome Home party. A few days before, a ceremony of sorts—more a ritual, really—had taken place at the Veil. Regulus had insisted that Hermione be there, appealing to her academic nature above all else. After a long incantation in some forgotten, ancient wizarding language, and drawing symbols on the floor in his own blood, Regulus was able to bring Sirius back to the world of the living, still unconscious from the Stunner he had taken. Then the Animagus fainted when he saw his brother, and had to be revived again.

After many explanations, they had made up, and were both now living with Hermione, who was becoming the envy of every unattached witch in Britain.

The night of the party, Hermione was making the rounds of Number Twelve as a good hostess should, offering food and drinks, never once being asked to dance. Finally, it was Sirius who enticed her onto the floor, spinning her around in the fast numbers, and pulling her close in the slow numbers.

"I'm still unclear on something," he said to her. "Who's this bird my brother's so painfully in love with?"

"Sirius, don't call women 'birds', unless it's their Animagus," she said mildly.

"C'mon, princess; don't avoid the question." He held her even tighter, tilting her chin up with his free hand. "Now, you're the only person from our world who's had any interaction with my brother in the last twenty-odd years. Surely _you_ know."

"`Fraid not," she whispered. "You'll probably be able to find out from him better than I can."

"…Maybe." Sirius looked over her shoulder at his brother, raising an eyebrow, daring him to cut in. Regulus just shut his eyes, and turned his head away. Sirius snorted, and Hermione asked what was wrong. "Uh… can I talk to you, in private? Just for a minute."

"Okay," she said, and he pulled her from the room gently, entwining their fingers. They went into the parlour, which was thankfully empty.

* * *

Regulus couldn't bear seeing his brother dancing so closely with the girl that _he_ loved, that _he_ wanted. He should have been quicker in claiming her; but he was still nervous. Merlin knows why, but he was nervous. And now they'd left the room. And knowing his brother's 'dating habits'… he followed.

"…what you mean, Sirius."

"You know damn well… mean. Don't pretend…"

The noise of the party was making it difficult to hear.

"Of course, but not… way. And even… did, it doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"…other witches… better than me… him."

"So is this why you're moving out?"

Regulus' heart dropped, and he wished that the music hadn't stopped in time for him to hear that. Hermione was moving?

"It's a really nice flat that I've found, and I heard him making plans to sell his place. You wouldn't want to live here. Hell, you can live with me until you find somewhere else, if you really don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

"Harry and Ginny have already offered me the guest room in their house, but thanks for the offer. Have you told Reg that you're moving?"

"I'll tell him when he tells me."

"Now admit it. You're the girl who helped him to lift the spell, aren't you? The one he's in love with?"

"That would involve him having feelings for me, which he doesn't."

"But I do!" Regulus shouted, bursting into the room unthinkingly. Hermione's jaw dropped, and Sirius smirked triumphantly. He turned into Padfoot, and ran out of the room on all fours, intent on creating some doggy mischief now that one goal had been achieved.

Hermione began to tremble where she stood. "Mr. Black… I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked softly. "You loved me then, because I know I've always loved you, ever since we met. Is it because of who I was? Do you keep your distance now because I was a Death Eater?" She nodded. "So then… you hate me now."

"I could never hate you," she replied. "Never."

"But you could never be with me, because…"

"Because I'm a Mudblood," she said, practically spitting the insult. "And there are other witches for you out there, pureblood ones. Hell, even half-blood is better than Muggleborn."

"Hang on," he said as she tried to leave the room. "You… this is because of Death Eater ideals?"

"Yes."

"And not because of the things I had to do?"

"It was expected of you," she whispered. "You did the right thing, turning against Lord Voldemort. And… and you're my publisher. You're basically the person who pays my bills. You're certainly kind of my boss."

"Well, damn it all to hell! I love you, Hermione." He grabbed her hands. "Don't leave me. If you want to do anything drastic, then marry me. But _don't leave me_."

* * *

Marriage. He had suggested marriage.

…Why?

"Because I love you," he said, and Hermione realised that she had spoken aloud. Either that, or her emotions were written plainly across her face. "You helped me regain my memory in _every aspect_, Hermione. My darling Hermione," he added, stroking her face. Her eyelids drew together as her breathing grew louder. "You aided in the fall of the Dark Lord. You were the reason I said my brother's name. You are the woman I fell in love with. And, thank Circe, you did me the honour of loving me back." He dropped to one knee in front of her. "We've known each other for more than three years now, Hermione Granger. All that time, I've yearned for you; for your lips, for your arms, for your everything."

"Regulus," she whispered, feeling the tears dropping onto the hands he now clutched in his.

"Please grant me this, and give me new life again," he begged. "Please, Hermione. Be mine. Be my wife."

"Gods forgive me," she said, kneeling down in front of him, and taking his head in her hands. "Yes, Regulus. I've always been yours. And I will be your wife."

* * *

Outside the door, Sirius was doing a little dance where he stood, punching the air every so often. He couldn't wait for his brother, and his future sister-in-law, to tell everyone about their engagement.

But right now, he had his very own brown-haired woman waiting for him at the party.

He'd see to the others later.

**

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The end!

**I hoped you enjoyed this. Didn't I say in my profile that I wanted to write a Hermione/Regulus story? What would that make it? Regione? Hergulus?**

**Vote and review, please!**


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